


Daddy

by shittershutter



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse)
Genre: Cablepool - Freeform, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 07:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14732732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shittershutter/pseuds/shittershutter
Summary: The voice keeps yapping and yapping and for what it worth it brings Nate back. The smell returns to reality first -- the sweat, the socks that could've and should've been washed last year, the strawberry and cream bubblegum still in Wade's mouth jumping on his tongue, kicking against the teeth.





	Daddy

**Author's Note:**

> I saw Deadpool 2. I'm SO sorry.

"Yeah, daddy, fuck me with that cyber dick," Wade whimpers softly, all wind knocked out of him. His eyes are squeezed shut so he can't really see an impressive array of emotions Nate's face goes through in the next ten seconds. 

It settles on the mix of pain and disgust -- the former in the arch of his brows, the latter in his tightened jaw -- and this is how Wade catches him when his hips falter, buckling half-heartedly.

"Oh baby, I..." he tries to get the elbows working to push himself up and like the newborn foal's legs, they scatter in every direction from under him. 

Nate appreciates the pathetic display tremendously, his aching chest be damned. God has graced him with the dick his wife used to call _a kidney stroker_ and it's beautiful to just watch it work its magic like it was intended. 

"... it's a habit," Wade continues gruffly, drowning in the mattress under the other man's weight, that annoying sign-songy quality of his voice fucked out of him completely. "... you have this silver fox look going on and it's kind of a traditional way to refer to someone who could technically be your father a..."

The voice keeps yapping and yapping and for what it worth it brings Nate back. The smell returns to reality first -- the sweat, the socks that could've and should've been washed last year, the strawberry and cream bubblegum still in Wade's mouth jumping on his tongue, kicking against the teeth.

He takes a whiff and there is no awful synthetic burning stench with some sweeter organic undertones around him. Like any hallucination, it attacks and then pretends it was never even there.

All the _couldhavebeens_ he's walked through crash against his temples with threatening force and he lets them, breathing deeply through his nose as he glances between the teddy bear on his bedside table, fur clean save the ketchup stain Wade swears he didn't leave, and the man under him, uncharacteristically still. 

The air is all vanilla now instead, from all the lube still smeared across Wade's hand as the younger man strokes his face softly tracing every deepened wrinkle until it resets into a comfortable scowl again. 

"No fatherly relations in this bedroom," Wade announces. "Unless you wanna play an altar boy and a priest sometime."

Nate snorts. It's now a snort, not an irritated huff, something with a promise to blossom into a beautiful, fucking sonant laughter one day, thanks to Wade's underappreciated efforts. 

He then sinks his teeth into the meat of Wade's palm and slams back in, from the swollen tip to the balls, all smooth and efficient. The hot tight body holds him, spasming, just like the sure familiar hands wrap around his shoulders and back and stroke the skin and the metal alike.

Wade's dick is so hard between them it should be affecting his speech but it doesn't and just like the white noise of the big city outside their window it calms Nate down some, makes him feel like he is somehow dissolving into it until nothing matters or exists.

Nate grabs his ass, adjusting their pelvises against each other until he hits the younger man somewhere really good and the talking drowns in pathetic whimpers.

"I got you," Nate whispers and it feels sticky sweet on his tongue, like "I have you, I love you" would. With a pinch of a spicier _got you, you fuckface_ mixed in. 

Wade digs all ten of his terrible, dirty nails into his ass and fucks into the hard planes of his stomach like he is trying to poke a hole in it, get to the older man's spine. 

Nate calls him pretty boy through it and it's only half-ironic -- he has seen cities fall and is perfectly capable to find beauty in a man with shiitake mushrooms for ears as long as the said man keeps rubbing his scalp softly and the man's hole keeps stretching around the base of his dick so tightly he'll probably rip it off if he tries to pull out. 

He lies on Wade's chest after they are done, motionless, and the ribcage holds under his weight with the air traveling through moving him up and down. He has maybe three full minutes before other man's vocabulary kicks back in and he uses that precious time wisely to fall asleep.


End file.
